Sweet Christmas
by Guardian Erin
Summary: A series of stories of Spike and Angel at Christmas time.  Light and silly fic, but still naughty.
1. Belief in Magic

A/N: Written throughout December.

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><p><strong>1 - Belief in Magic<strong>, Angel's POV

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><p>I can hardly sleep. Just as soon as I managed to settle in, Spike shifted in his sleep and wrapped himself around me. It's too cute for words, and I can't stop thinking about what he did today. I'll have to check under his pillow for the next few weeks. I'm still wired from the day. It was eventful from the moment I woke up.<p>

Spike, in his infinite wisdom, decided to throw a shoe at me while I was sleeping. When I sat up, the other one hit me in the head. They were my own.

"You left those in the bathroom," Spike said. "In the bathroom," he repeated so I'd know what crime I'd committed.

Then when I went to take my shower, his sopping wet towel was on the floor.

"Spike, I thought we talked about this."

"Yeah, well, if you can leave your shoes in there, I can leave my towel on the floor."

My response was the grab the towel and beat him with it mercilessly. By the end of it, Spike was pinned underneath me, every inch of bare skin pink from being smacked by the wet towel, and we were both sopping wet.

The fight was quickly followed by a long, shared shower that involved a lot of thorough cleaning. When he was done drying off and I was still in my towel he smacked me hard in the groin and tried to walk off. He got as far as the bedroom before I tackled him.

_This is where my unlife has led me_, I thought afterwards when we both lay on the bed silently cupping ourselves after what felt like an hour of punching each other in the balls.

"None for you tonight," Spike finally muttered.

"We'll see."

We dressed and ate separately and then ended up going down to the office at about the same time. I was hoping for something more violent to do, but this place is only designed to torture. There was a mountain of paperwork instead, and Spike pissed around as usual. If I let myself follow my darkest impulses, I'd burn this place to the ground, salt the earth, and fuck Spike in the ashes. No, on second though I'd take him far, far away first. Didn't matter where, but just somewhere better.

The thought got to me. I followed a brighter impulse instead.

"Where're we headed?" Spike asked in the car.

"Out."

"Mind being a bit more specific?"

I didn't bother to answer him.

"Drama queen. If you wanted to kill something we coulda brought Charlie boy and Percy along. If you wanted to take me somewhere to shag… well that's not your style. No fancy outings for Spikey. And it's the wrong time of the month to be visiting your dog-face girl. Care to clue me in?"

"No, keep guessing," I smirked, but it wouldn't be much longer before we were there, and even then I figured he wouldn't get it.

"The mall?" Spike blurted out, only after I got out of the car and he realized I was serious. He was perched up in the car like a cat, uncertain whether he would stay, get out to follow me, or flee altogether. "The sodding mall?"

"You coming or what?"

Spike looked paler than usual, and almost fell out of the convertible, not bothering to use the door. He quickly stumbled over his own feet to catch up with me, apparently more unwilling to be left alone. "There'd better be evil here."

"I'll buy you one of those little massagy things," I told him, and his face immediately changed into a mask of wonder.

"What 'little massagy things'?"

"Oh bloody hell, don't stop," Spike cursed when I finally turned it off.

I snickered at him, trying to remind him of how he was acting in a store with people milling around freely.

"We should save it for later tonight, sweetie," I replied. "I'll massage whatever you want." Not gonna lie, I felt a little glee when a lady nearby looked at us, went a little flush and moved along quickly.

"You know, people rarely use those for massaging their backs," Spike pointed out, even though I'd done just that for about five minutes, deeply amused by the way he moved against the thing. I swear he's still purring a little, and there's a weird, lazy after-glow like mood to him.

"Oh, I know," I assured him with a wink, picking up a blue model. Within half an hour I had a bag of bought goods – the massager, some books for me, some movies for him.

We were crossing the main foyer on our way out of the labyrinth of shops when we saw him. Red suit, full fluffy beard and everything. He was wishing a little girl merry Christmas in a hearty voice.

"Santa!" Spike blurted out. I could barely believe it until he charged the poor man like some man-child, but to Santa's credit, he took it in stride.

"Hello!" he greeted in a deep, jolly voice.

"I've always wondered, how do you get those reindeer to fly you around the world in just a night?" Spike asked him, completely serious. "'Specially seeing how most folks don't have chimneys these days."

"Christmas Eve is a magical time," Santa responded cryptically.

Spike tipped his head back. "Ah. A sort of spell. A very big one."

Santa merely laid his finger alongside his nose and winked, and Spike grinned, looking very proud of himself.

"If I wrote you what I want for Christmas, would you get it?" Spike asked as I stood beside him, waiting for the moment to leave.

"Leave it under your pillow and I'll certainly get it," Santa said, giving me a meaningful look.

"More magic," Spike said decidedly.

"I'll look forward to your letter, and if you're very good I'm sure you'll get what you want," Santa told him.

"You're gonna have to start being _very_good," I teased under my breath.

"I've got lots of other boys and girls to see," Santa told us as he started to walk away, "but I'll stop by on Christmas Eve!"

"What kind of cookies do you like?" Spike questioned.

"All kinds, but sugar cookies are my favorite," he said with a wink.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Merry Christmas!" Santa called out with a wave, walking away.

"You too, big guy," Spike responded as I dragged him off. "Much better than the child-eating demon version," he said to me.

"Do you really believe that he was Santa Claus?" I asked, almost afraid to question him, but I had to know.

"_The_Santa Claus, yes," Spike emphasized. "His beard wasn't fake. His suit wasn't that lightweight fake stuff. Twinkle in his eyes and everything."

"You're too precious for this world," I teased, bumping into him as we walked. "Are you going to write to him and leave out sugar cookies and everything?"

"Just as an experiment," Spike defended slightly. "But I think I've got it figured. It's the sacrifice of the cookies that makes the magic work. Gotta have a sacrifice. I'll leave out a little extra to cover the kiddies that don't have any to offer. Much better than the child-eating demon version," he repeated.

We went home and ate, watched a Christmas special on TV about some little girl and a reindeer that may or may not have been Santa's.

"You think it really was his reindeer?" I asked softly at the end, nudging against him to make sure he was even awake. He'd been so still and quiet in my arms for the last few minutes.

"Either that or the reindeer went over the cliff," he responded. "Rather think that it flew off."

I agreed. It was much better to have a little faith in magic. We both knew there were a lot of things that people didn't see in the world. A lot of bad things, but a lot of good.

"Time for bed," I prodded, pushing him up.

"It's early," Spike complained. "Not even tired."

"Me neither, but I want to put that massager to good use."

"Oh," Spike said, and immediately stood up. "Yeah?"

"Mmm."

"Think I have a few kinks you could work out," Spike said, shrugging slightly.

"I've got a _lot_of things in mind."

Spike tsked. "Too naughty and you won't get anything from Santa."

"I think Santa excuses this kind of naughty."


	2. Early Christmas Gift

**2 - Early Christmas Gift**

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><p>Angel waited until Spike fell asleep. It wasn't easy; it took a couple blowjobs and a lot of patience before he managed to exhaust his lover. Spike was stretched out fast asleep, and when he slept, he slept hard. Angel waited until he was absolutely sure that Spike was out before he had enough courage to slip a hand under Spike's pillow.<p>

He wasn't sure if Spike had put the note under his pillow that night. He'd checked nights in a row and only recently did he even see Spike writing the note. He'd felt foolish then, but even after seeing Spike writing it, it never showed up. Sometimes he wondered if Santa Claus really did get it somehow, but then the next day he'd see Spike adding to his note, very carefully, tediously.

"What're you writing?" he'd try to ask him, but Spike was strictly secretive about it.

He didn't know where Spike hid it, and hadn't seen him put it under the pillow yet, but he wasn't sure if he ever would. All he knew was that when he reached underneath Spike's pillow, there was nothing there. Nothing at all.

Angel sighed softly and removed his hand, putting his arm around Spike instead and trying to fall asleep. All of this just to try to make Spike happy.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Angel tried to ask the next morning, but Spike was no help.

"Don't worry about it, pet," Spike answered, giving Angel a patronizing kiss. "Old Saint Nick's got it taken care of."

"He's got your letter?" Angel had questioned.

"Course not, silly, I haven't given it to him yet," Spike replied. "Don't worry, I got it sorted. He'll have it by tonight."

Spike wanted to go to bed strangely early that night. He was as well behaved as he got, and Angel now felt that it was finally the night that Spike would leave his note. It was all very planned, very innocent. Angel could hardly believe it when Spike tucked the note underneath his pillow before climbing into bed beside him.

"There," Spike said, wiggling down underneath the sheets. He usually slept in the nude, but that night he had boxers on, which was almost as absurd and cute to Angel as if Spike had come to bed in footie pajamas.

He made to examine the pattern on Spike's boxers, but was stopped by a strong, pale hand.

"Not tonight," Spike said, surprising Angel. "Santa could be here at any time."

"You're serious?"

"Just for tonight," Spike insisted. "We've got the rest of the year to fool around."

Angel agreed uneasily, because he knew it would take longer for Spike to fall asleep, and he was right. When the blonde was finally pass out beside him, he carefully slid his hand underneath the pillow and eased out the note.

There was enough dim light in the room to read the note when he unfolded it. It only took a moment for his eyes to adjust after opening the paper.

_What I want for Christmas:_

_Nice bottle of Jack Daniels  
>Call of Duty for Play Station<br>A pony  
>Knitting kit<br>Dancing shoes  
>A new dress<em>

_Angel, in case you haven't figured it out by now, stop reading this and shag me already._

_Love, Spike_

Angel stared at the note for a second, then crumpled it and tossed it aside and hit Spike for tricking him, and to wake him up.

"Ow! Bloody hell, what do you want?" Spike asked, irritated and unable to find Angel until he realized that Angel had slipped down the bed, his fingers hooking onto Spike's boxers.

Angel smirked. "Giving you an early Christmas gift."


	3. Sticky Sweet

**3 - Sticky Sweet**

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><p>Christmas was coming up soon. Personally, Spike didn't very much care. The stretch of days before seemed like a waste because everyone just wanted to get to the presents, and there was nothing else to do but prepare for that one silly day and all of it's silly magic and togetherness and junk. It meant presents and sweets and Angel making heavy love to him. 'Making love' because Angel was a sentimental poof who was more likely to dress up as a reindeer than do anything kinky on Christmas… although the former might lend to the latter.<p>

Spike had only suffered around the office before deciding that he'd rather stick to the penthouse or venture outside when he needed to, but to avoid Wolfram and Hart completely. You could tell a place was evil when it played bad Christmas music nonstop, low like elevator music in every room and it was sure to drive a guy insane.

After a couple days though, he needed a reason why he was holed up in the penthouse. He spent a couple days Christmas shopping. The idea of crowds was a put-off to say the least, but there wasn't much of a crowd at all at the adult toy shop.

That was a few days ago, and the various colorful, vibrating, phallic things were already wrapped and stashed away. He was damn good at hiding things, too. For all Angel knew, he wasn't even getting anything for Christmas. He knew Spike would probably get him something, of course, but Spike had given him no clue whatsoever that he'd even given it thought yet. Spike had put his thoughts to other things instead, like how he was going to pass the rest of the week until Christmas finally came.

The solution was not so well-planned, springing more from boredom and eager curiosity, like everything else Spike did. All he knew was that he wanted something sweet, and that looking up recipes was for sissies. Flour and sugar were the base ingredients for cookies, Spike knew. Some eggs, some milk – he wasn't sure how much for any of it. After that he wasn't sure. He found chocolate chips and added them.

There were other things he knew had to be added, but after trying to remember them for about five minutes, Spike decided they were boring and he could do without them. He decided to go by instinct instead, tasting the batter and guessing at what it needed. What it needed most of, he decided, was more sweetness, but he didn't want to add more plain old sugar.

Spike stood on a chair to rummage through the needlessly huge cupboards, tossing useless spices aside until he finally found what he didn't even know he'd been looking for. He grabbed the golden bottle and broke the seal, then eagerly popped the cap and taste-tested the honey inside. It was thick and warm, and glossed over his tongue before melting away leaving nothing but sweetness and deliciousness. He hopped off of the chair and tasted more of the honey, licking it off of his fingertips. It was far too good to waste by putting it in the batter.

Angel arrived home a few minutes after office hours ended. He'd been all too glad to get away from that place. He had some hideous jingle stuck in his head, and there'd been an unfortunate incident with mistletoe when all he'd wanted to do was get something from the copier. He'd been close to finding out where the music was coming from and putting an axe into the equipment, but when he tried interrogating Harmony about it she started protesting that it raised company morale and accused him of being a 'Grinch'.

He sighed and took off his shoes at the door. He liked Christmas, but some of it he just didn't get. The gift-giving, warm moments with your friends and loved ones he liked a lot. Beyond that, most of it was lost on him, and he knew Spike had a scathing distaste for a lot of it, too, but he could never tell what Spike might sneer at and what he might go crazy over like any other little kid on Christmas day.

The blonde had been up to something lately, and when Angel stopped at the kitchen, he realized what. First he saw the messy counter strewn with eggshells, flour, and different bottles of spice flung around the kitchen. Then he saw Spike, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, naked, and seemingly trying to feed from a half-empty bottle of honey.

When Angel moved closer, Spike turned to look at him and Angel realized that Spike was covered in the stuff, different sticky streams of honey trailing off of his collar bones and down his chest, over his thigh, and at the back of his neck, trailing down between his shoulder blades.

A moment pass between them and then Angel groaned softly and sank to his knees next to Spike. He planted a hand on the floor beside Spike to steady himself and licked slowly from Spike's ear to his back, cleaning the honey off of him with his tongue. Spike hmm'd softly and purred, then went back to feeding on the honey bottle like he was a teething fledgling again.

When Angel had satisfactorily cleaned the sticky mess off of Spike, he pulled up his head and carefully rested his chin on Spike's shoulder. "Why did you get naked?" Angel asked, wrapping an arm around Spike to stroke the blonde's stomach, accidentally touching some of the honey and pulling his hand back to lick his fingers.

"Why do you assume I got dressed?" Spike frowned in return.

Angel paused for a moment, then smiled and captured Spike's mouth with his own, eagerly seeking out the sweet taste on Spike's tongue. After an extremely long kiss, Spike finally squirmed out of it, turning under Angel's hands.

"It's going to take forever to clean this up," Angel muttered when he could form words again. "Do you even have any idea?"

Spike gave him a mischievous smirk. "Gonna punish me, Daddy?"

Angel snorted softly and pushed Spike's shoulders, flattening the slimmer man to the floor. "No, but someone is in for a very long bath," he said before beginning to lick Spike clean.


End file.
